


Airport Entertainment

by whatthehalestilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, huzzah, i gave up on nanowrimo so have this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehalestilinski/pseuds/whatthehalestilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It didn't bother him that Derek was leaving. It really didn't.</p><p>Well, not at first."</p><p>In which Derek and Cora have told the pack that they bought tickets to fly out to New York in a week and don't plan on coming back. Everyone seems to assume that doesn't sit well with Stiles despite his denials, and basically the airport ends up turning into a real-life version of a scene from some cheesy soap opera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airport Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> yeah okay so I'm really finished with nanowrimo, i've given in, so I decided to write this instead. it only took me two days and as of now i'm posting it at 3:49am and it's unbeta'd so please don't judge me or the inconsistencies and spelling/grammar mistakes in my work, i promise i'll fix them when i reread this and want to puke later. 
> 
> also, this was written because of a bunch of tags on a photo that stilinskisparkles.tumblr.com posted: "#THERE SHOULD BE A FIC WHERE HE GOES TO THE AIRPORT TO CONVINCE DEREK TO STAY #AND BE HIS SUNSHINE FOREVER #AND THE CROWD AROUND THEM STARE AT DEREK #GLARING AND MORTIFIED (BUT SECRETLY TOTES IN LOVE) #AND EVERYONE'S LIKE 'REALLY //THIS// GUY' #AND THEN THEY MAKE OUT #BECAUSE THERE SHOULD BE AN AIRPORT MOMENT IN MY LIFE FOR STEREK". 
> 
> so yeah, god bless that, and here's the post if you wanna see it: http://stilinskisparkles.tumblr.com/post/66320745970
> 
> anyway, that's enough rambling. enjoy!!!!

It didn't bother Stiles that Derek was leaving. It really didn't.  
  
Well, not at first.  
  
*  
  
"How could he do this to us?"  
  
"Oh, drop it, Scott, come on. It's not like he's pulling a new trick here, right? He's done shit like this before, and he'll do it again."  
  
"We're just _kids_ "  
  
"Yeah, and his understanding of "kid" is being one of the only four to escape the arson murder of your entire family knowing that it's all your fault. I'm not sure he knows what "child" means."  
  
Scott sits on the bed in Stiles' room. He flops down, seeming exhausted. Stiles can see the bed moving with his breath. "I can't believe he's leaving."  
  
"Gone. Poof. Buh-bye. Completely checking out of Beacon Hills Nutjob Motel once and for all. Honestly, I don't blame the guy. If I could, I'd probably pack up shop and jump ship too."  
  
Scott scoffs, confident. "No you wouldn't."  
  
Stiles sinks down to lie next to his best friend on his bed. "Nah, I probably wouldn't." He jabs his elbow into Scott's arm playfully, knowing it'll probably hurt him more than it will Scott. "Hell, you wouldn't last a two days without me anyway."  
  
He kind of expects Scott to protest, even just a little bit as a joke, but instead he just lets out a breath that kind of sounds more like a hum than anything. "Yeah, you're probably right."  
  
Scott isn't the gloomy type. "Dude, lighten up, alright? You guys hate each other. Derek and his witty-yet-exceedingly-rude little sister will hop on the nice first class plane they bought tickets for in a week, you'll whine and sniffle for a day or two, and then you'll realize this is a good thing!"  
  
"And what about you?" It takes Stiles a while to recognize that Scott's asking him if he's okay.  
  
"Dude, what? No, I'm perfectly fine, he can move to Antartica for all I care."  
  
Scott laughs softly under his breath, his shoulders shaking the bed lightly. "I meant Cora, but yeah, him too."  
  
Stiles gets up, changing the subject to ask what Scott wants for dinner. He really just didn't want to respond -- or for Scott to see his embarrassed blush.  
  
*  
  
For the rest of the week, everyone subtly tries to ask Stiles if he's okay. It actually gets pretty annoying. Next is Lydia.  
  
They're all at the newly-rebult piece of modern architechture Derek can now _actually_ call a house, trying to get in as much werewolf-y training as they can before Derek's gone for good. They're in the clearing behind his house, watching all the otherwise-regular teenage kids growl at each other and fight carefully with occasional claws and outrageously sharp teeth. It used to be irritating, watching all these attractive people fight with practically no clothes on, but Stiles has learned to enjoy it.  
  
"What flavour?" is the first thing Lydia says when she sits down next to Stiles on the back porch to watch.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ice cream, stupid. Flavour." Her eyes haven't left the wolves, and she tucks a strand of stray hair behind her ear. Stiles' eyes, of course, are searching her face, trying to figure out what the hell she's talking about.  
  
"Mint chip, why? Are you conducting some type of genius survey for your future multi-billion dollar company?"  
  
She laughs. Not giggles, like she does when she's at school manipulating everyone like puppets and setting up puzzle pieces exactly how she wants them to sit; not sarcastic, judgemental laughing; no, she really laughs, soft and quiet and not for show. It's taken some time to get used to the fact that he's allowed to hear that. That she's really friends with him. When he tries to think about kissing her, though, it doesn't work. He just -- doesn't see the appeal anymore.  
  
It's not like he's stopped loving her though, that would be absolutely _ridiculous_.  
  
After she's stopped, she puts on an incredulous look. "Let me rephrase: what flavour of ice cream should I buy for you to cry yourself dry into? Oh, that rhymed."  
  
Admittedly, Stiles is a little taken aback. "What are you talking about?"  
  
She just shakes her head, rolls her eyes. "You can't pretend forever, you know. You're not fooling me. Listen, if before this week is up, you don't make some kind of move, I'll just be forced to make you cry into buckets of ice cream flavoured by _my_ tastes, not yours. And I will purposely burn any baked goods you beg me to make for you. Got it?"  
  
Stiles just stares at her while she gets up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, trying to figure out what exactly she's implying.  
  
"If you're talking about Cora I--"  
  
"I'm not as gullible as Scott, Stiles. You should know _exactly_ who I'm talking about." She eyes the pack training behind her, and looks relieved that none of them seem to be paying attention. " _Do something._ " She says, and with that she's turning around to run to the pack, her mood changing completely. She giggles and smiles and runs up to Jackson, the nature of their conversation totally eradicated from her composure. Fascinating, really.  
  
He sits, contemplating her words, enjoying the view. Because, honestly, who wouldn't enjoy watching sweaty half-naked werewolves tousle with each other on the ground?  
  
*  
  
Up next in line is Allison. Stiles assumes Lydia told her about whatever situation people seem to be trying to make him aware of, maybe pushed her to talk to him. After a bit of thinking though, he realizes that it could have been Scott, too, or maybe she's even doing it on her own. In any case, Allison approaches him about it as well.  
  
It's while they're having one of their smaller movie nights, just her, Scott and Stiles. The sheriff had a shift so Stiles decided to host it; Scott's in the washroom.  
  
"Is there something you wanna talk to me about, Stiles? You know I'm always here for you, right?"  
  
"Uh... I don't think so? Should there be?"  
  
Allison brings a leg up under her currently folded one, sitting cross-legged on the couch. She throws her hair over one shoulder. "Well, no, I guess not. Just -- in a couple days, I just want you to know I'm here to talk to, okay?" She tries to catch his line of sight, her eyes genuine. She really is a wonderful person.  
  
"That's great, and thank you, but I really am fine. Why does everyone seem to assume I care? We're going to be fine without them. Derek doesn't know half as much as Deaton anyway, right? We'll be fine."  
  
"Stiles... that's -- that's not what I mean-" That, of course, is when Scott comes back in, and for some reason, that stops Allison from finishing. Stiles shrugs it off, shoving back over a little more so Scott can squeeze in between him and Allison, and leans back to watch the movie. It only takes him ten minutes to remember the popcorn is still in the microwave.  
  
*  
  
Isaac, somewhat surprisingly, approaches him next.  
  
They're at the pizza place the pack visits often, trying to get as much time in with the Hales as they can before they leave in just four days. Both of the wolves in question had been a bit reluctant at first, because they wanted to go quickly and without much noise, but with a pack like theirs, that was nearly impossible.  
  
Stiles excuses himself to the washroom and barely even notices when Isaac does the same. He doesn't actually go into a stall or use a urinal, just stands leaning against the wall by the door with his arms crossed, looking, as always, like a kicked puppy. "Stiles--"  
  
"If you're going to talk to me about them leaving, trust me, apparently there's a line." Stiles sighs, going to wash his hands.  
  
"I just want to make sure you're okay."  
  
Stiles comes to stand against the wall opposite Isaac, mirroring him. "Isaac, I'm fine. Really, I'm not sure I get your concern, but I really don't care. I mean, not like, completely indifferent, it'll be pretty weird without him here, but he can do what he wants, right? We'll be perfectly fine without him."  
  
Isaac pauses for a bit. "Are you sure?"  
  
Stiles sighs again, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm sure. Really, I'm infatuated with Lydia, right? I've got Scott, and you, and Allison and everyone else. I don't -- _we_ don't need him. Okay? We're fine."  
  
Isaac nods, walking towards the door, moving to leave -- but he stops when he grips the handle, turning back to look at him. "I was, uh, I was talking about Cora. I think you need to take some time to yourself to think. See you out there." And he's gone.  
  
Stiles stays for a while longer in the bathroom, staring at the wall where Isaac stood. "Shit," he whispers under his breath. And then he works up the courage and leaves.  
  
*  
  
Erica and Boyd never really confront Stiles about it, mostly just giving him pointed looks whenever they can. That's why Jackson is next, who decides to harass him at school the next day, and Goddamn if Stiles didn't expect it in the slightest.  
  
It's in the locker room after practice, and they're the last two left. "Look, Stiles, if you don't decide to finally grow a pair in the next three days, I might just blurt out your little secret for you, understand?"  
  
"Uh... what?"  
  
"Don't play stupid, it's not flattering. You know what I'm talking about." Jackson pulls on is other sock, not even bothering to look at him when he speaks.  
  
"Wait, what?"  
  
"I've got a best friend, alright, and you know who he is. I think I know this kind of stuff when I see it." He throws on his shirt, closing up his locker and preparing to leave. "Don't be pathetic about it," is the last thing Jackson says before he really closes the door behind him, leaving Stiles, once again, alone with this thoughts.  
  
*  
  
The last is Cora. Stiles would never expect it, but it happens.  
  
She shows up on his driveway two nights before she and Derek are set to leave, throwing rocks at his window like some weird gender-swapped version of Romeo. Stiles jerks awake when she gets fed up and finally throws a pebble almost hard enough to smash his window. He pushes up the window and gives her the finger. She's about to yell something back when he slams the window back down again, and holds up his pointer finger to her instead, signalling "one sec."

He runs his hands over his face and through his hair as he's walking out of his room, only dropping them to grip onto the railing as he flies down the stairs. Enough bruises have told him that it's a good idea to steady himself if he wants to run down these monsterous steps of doom. Or _any_ monsterous steps of doom, really.  
  
When Stiles opens his front door as silently as he can, he sees Cora sitting on the last step leading up to his door. He remembers that used to be the loose one when he was a kid; it was a real pain in the ass for his entire family, all the bumps and cuts and bruises that were a result of that one wobbly step. There's even a stain on it from the one time slit his entire knee open on the edge. He supposes they never really got all the blood washed off. Absently, he wonders if Cora can smell it, or if the years have washed away its scent completely. Stairs just seem to be proving themselves as Stiles' arch nemesis.  
  
"Are you going to sit or what?" He had almost forgotten she was even there, but she breaks him from remembering times when his mom was still alive. He appreciates it, actually.  
  
"God forbid you guys learn how to knock on a door like everybody else. Maybe next time you could come calling to me at some hour  _past_  piss-o'clock in the morning," he says, sitting down next to her.  
  
"If there is a next time," Cora replies, not looking at him when she does, like everybody else has when they've talked to him. They're all so melodramatic.  
  
"Jesus, will everybody stop that? You're not dying, alright?" He yawns, folding his arms over his chest. It's pretty cold out, even for Beacon Hills. "I mean, not to offend or anything, but why the hell are you here? Can we at least move this inside? I'm not a werewolf or, I don't know, Canadian. I'm human and I am turning into a mortal icicle here."  
  
Without a word, Cora stands up, nodding to the door. Once they're inside and on the couch, Stiles is glad his father took a night shift; it means he doesn't have to worry about word choicing or being quiet.  
  
"I'm here," Cora starts, facing him with her legs crossed on the couch, "because of something I think we need to address. You, like the stubborn peice of shit you are, have been avoiding it for a week."  
  
Stiles just runs his hands over his face again. "And that is?"  
  
"Derek."  
  
"Of course." His words are flooded with sarcasm.  
  
"I just want to make sure you know what you're doing here, alright?"  
  
"Cora, you do realize that _I'm not the one choosing to leave here,_ right? I'm merely letting you two do whatever the fuck you want. I am being the bigger person here, okay, and let me tell you right now, I don't--"  
  
She cuts him off simply by grabbing one of his hands with hers, though she lets go right after. A couple years ago, Stiles would have thought of the gesture as romantic or something, but now it just seems friendly and caring. He can't see anything past that.  
  
"Shut up for a sec, will you? I'm not asking you to ask us to stay." She pauses, searhcing his eyes to make sure he understands.  
  
"Then what--"  
  
"I said shut up." She seems to be searching for the words she wants. "I'm asking you what you want. I'm not sure you know yet, but I'm sure everyone else sees it. You know what I'm talking about. I want you to make the right decision _for you_ , but you have to make it on your own."  
  
Stiles is about to protest, to say that he really doesn't need her telling him what to do, or any of them for that matter, that he doesn't need her and he doesn't need Derek, that he's got other issues to deal with.  
  
But instead he stops, nodding slowly. Instead, he filters his mouth for once. Instead, he says, "I think I need to do some more thinking."  
  
It takes a while for him to realize that Cora has already left. Almost distantly, he remembers her kissing him on the cheek before standing up to exit the door like a normal member of human society. She had whispered in his ear, "I don't think New York is as great as it sounds anyway."  
  
*  
  
Two days later, Stiles finds himself speeding down the highway that leads into town, having made a last minute decision. He bursts into the airport lobby, searching desperately for two werewolf-shaped forms of grumpy and sass in black, but one in particular. A couple people are staring at him, but he doesn't care. He has a mission here, and he's frantic to complete it.  
  
He finally spots them first in line to check their luggage, just about to pay for the weight of their suitcases. He calls out a name before he can stop himself, not that he would even if he could. His decision had been pretty solid before, on the way here, but as the "D" forms in his mouth he can feel the lines of what he wants hardening, clarifying, making themselves known. He knows what he wants, and he doesn't care about rejection anymore. Somehow it's just slipping by his worry right now.  
  
Derek turns around before Stiles even finishes his name. He looks confused, but not necessarily in a bad way. His eyes dart to give Cora a look before he returns them to Stiles. He seems to talk to her from the side of his mouth, still staring at Stiles.  
  
There are more people looking now, but Stiles can't really find it in himself to be bothered. This is a huge relief coming off his shoulders, and a couple strangers aren't going to make that irrelevant.  
  
Cora actually has to physically push Derek out of line to make him move, and even then he just stands outside the line, staring. Cora apologizes to the woman at the desk, takes their luggage back and turns around to tell those next in line that it's okay to move up, that they can just go to the end when they're ready.  
  
Stiles flashes back to earlier that day, when Derek and Cora were saying their goodbyes, when everyone was all tears and hugs except for the two actually leaving. Stiles remembers Cora pulling him into a seemingly genuine embrace, only to whisper, "What you do is your choice," in his ear, and suddenly the hug wassn't out of character anymore. Stiles had nodded, but he didn't say anything when it was Derek's turn to say goodbye to him. He just saluted Derek. Derek, of course, just stood there, stiff. It was actually kind of awkward, and finally Cora dragged him by the arm to their car. Derek's eyes didn't leave Stiles' until he had to turn around and get in the car, and then after that their eyes never met his again.  
  
Not until now, anyway.  
  
Cora gives Derek another shove, and then he seems to compose himself, pulling his features together into his usual angry look. When he finally arrives close enough to Stiles to indicate conversation, he's still almost six feet away. He just says, "Why the hell are you here?"  
  
And "Stay," is all that falls out of Stiles' mouth in response.  
  
"What?" Derek's expression is shocked again, but angry-shocked.  
  
More people have started staring. Stiles pushes them to the back of his mind; he doesn't care. "Stay," he says again, more forcefully.  
  
"There's no reason for me to. There's nothing here for me, Stiles, nothing!" Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles can see the entire pack entering the lobby, just staring.  
  
People are actually starting to gather around them, about thirty feet in radius, but Stiles can't force himself to give half a shit. "There's us. Stay."  
  
"No. I'm not needed and we're causing more trouble than we're worth. You'll all be better off without us. Now let us leave." He moves to turn around, but Stiles lunges forward to lightly grab his arm. He knows it won't do anything against superhuman strength, but it's the action that counts.  
  
"I'm calling bullshit. Stay. You're pack and we need you and we want you both here, okay, and New York is crap and so are you but I haven't kissed anyone in my life yet and you're the only one I can picture kissing or want to kiss at all ever because I think I may have had feelings for you for quite a while without really acknowledging it and this is coming out all wrong and I hate myself for it but I also know I'd hate myself if I let you leave without saying anything, without telling you I want you here and I want you to stay and frankly I just want you, okay, so please just--"  
  
He's cut off by Derek leaning forward to grip his face very lightly and carefully with his hands, pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
It's very quick, and Derek seems to back off immediately, regretting his impulsive decision, but Stiles just takes a step forward to follow. He can feel his heart swell, the heat in his face, the adrenaline pulsing through his legs, his stomach tying itself into pretzels. He's so focused on Derek he can hardly hear his friends cheering behind him, can hardly see Cora rolling her eyes beyond Derek, looking happy all the same, can hardly even care about the bystanding strangers on the ring around them, 'ooh'ing or 'aww'ing or wondering _why him_. All he can focus on is Derek.  
  
Knowing that there's no doubt Derek will be able to hear him so close and no one else (even the werewolf-y friends straining their ears behind him) will over the noise, he whispers, "Please don't go. I really, really like you. I don't know if what you just did was just in the spur of the moment or not, but I don't care. It means something. Please give us just a little more time at least." Then he's moving towards Derek again, slowly, making sure he has time to decide he regrets kissing him and turn around and get back in line to check his suitcase.

He doesn't.  
  
Derek waits, watching Stiles inch closer to him. At the last second, right before Stiles is leaning up to kiss him again, he whispers back, "New York really isn't all that great anyway." Stiles laughs, small, quiet, soft. Then he closes the distance, pressing his mouth to Derek's. Derek's hands carefully thread themselves around Stiles' waist, and Stiles brings his up around Derek's neck.  
  
Everything around them fades away.  
  
*  
  
Later, when everyone is laughing around the Hale livingroom about what a fiasco the week had been, and how stubborn Stiles really is, and Cora is complaining about the money they lost buying plane tickets and cancelling last minute, Stiles finds himself smiling. He realizes just how much these people, most of whom aren't even related by blood, love each other, and how not-okay they would have been without the Hales.  
  
He directs his smile over toward Derek beside him, sitting pretty close, who almost seems to be smiling as well. God forbid, but there's a really miniscule turn up to one side of his mouth, and Stiles definitely counts that as a win.  
  
  
  
It's not until even later, when he's in his own bed staring up at the ceiling trying to fall asleep after Derek hesitantly kissed him goodnight on the cheek, that Stiles realizes he made the decision on his own. That even though his pack had helped during the week leading up to it, they had nothing to do with when he was sitting in his idling Jeep, debating on whether or not he should actually pull out of the driveway or not. In fact, the only thing on his mind had been Derek, and he supposes that was pretty much decision enough.  
  
He also realizes, right before slipping into unconsciousness, that for the first time in a while, they're all happy. There's no oncoming threat, there's no need for major-scale anxiety or stress or worry. It feels good to know that they've got some rest, though he knows that, because they live in the town of Beacon Hills, that rest won't last very long, because none of them can ever really catch a break. But he can't bring himself to worry or care, because things are going right for once, and what's life if you don't bask in the good times while you have them?  
  
He finally falls asleep to the memory of Derek's mouth on his.

**Author's Note:**

> so ya that was pretty poopy i will fix in the morning ok also: cONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS THE ABSOLUTE BEST THANKS ily
> 
> you should check me out on tumblr and twitter!!!!!   
> my tumblr: sterecked.tumblr.com  
> my twitter: spoopernaturai (((its a capital i so it looks like a lowercase L)))


End file.
